


Lance is not a scientist

by BombDiggityDog



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Lance meets Hunk, M/M, Pidge ships it btw, Science Camp AU, he pines, pranking bros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 15:24:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11255697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BombDiggityDog/pseuds/BombDiggityDog
Summary: Lance gets dragged along to science camp, and while he isn't exactly a scientist, he may be crushing on someone who is.





	Lance is not a scientist

**Author's Note:**

> For the Voltron Positivity Exchange. My recipient is lemonlegs4, who requested Hance. Hope you enjoy!

  The moment Lance stepped off the bus, he knew he'd made a mistake.

  Honestly, he still kind of thought he was a little old for this sort of thing. The last science camp he’d been to was in, what, 2nd grade? Even back then, they weren't really his thing. Yet somehow, in the summer of his senior year, he'd been dragged along to a weeklong summer camp smackdab in the middle of nowhere. It wasn't like he had other plans anyways, right? And besides, Pidge would be there with him. 

  He thought back to their exchange over the phone the previous night, when his doubts had first made themselves known. 

  “I dunno Pidge,” he'd said, perching on the edge of his bed. “I'm not, like, a  _ sciency _ person, you know?”

  “Lance, relax.” Through the line, Lance could hear his friend zipping up a suitcase. “It’s chill. It’ll be chill. Besides, once Iverson gets there-”

  “Wait,  _ Iverson’s _ coming?”

  “Yeah, he’s a counselor. But-”

  “Pidge, Iverson  _ hates  _ me!”

  “Lance, chill,” Pidge sighed. “What I was going to say was, once Iverson gets there, we can pull off a great prank. Me and this other kid have been planning it for ages and we just need one more person. Catch my drift?”

  Lance groaned and collapsed on his bed, running a hand down his face dramatically. “Why are you like this Pidge? You know I can’t say no to that.”

  “Exactly. Better get packing.”

  Pidge didn’t give him a chance to turn her down, hanging up immediately. Lance sighed and tossed his phone onto the bed before he started gathering his things.

   So, here he was, stepping off the bus into a mass of teens, immediately regretting every decision he’d ever made in his life. There were  _ so many people _ \- most of which he assumed were there for the science and not to prank a teacher. What was he supposed to do?

  FInally, Lance pulled out his phone and dialed Pidge’s number. It rang twice before she picked up.

  “Pidge?” Lance had to practically yell over the din of the crowd. “Where are you? I-”

  “Lance! Lance, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for ages!” Pidge was hard to hear over something in the background. “Something came up at the last second. I can’t- Matt, no wait for me- I can’t make it to camp this year.”

  “ _ What _ ?” Lance exclaimed. “Pidge, what am I supposed to do without you? What- what about the  _ prank _ ?”

  “Lance, it’ll be fine. Hunk has all the supplies anyway, so- Matt, seriously!”

  “Hunk? Who the heck is Hunk?” Lance spluttered.

  “Lance I gotta go! It’ll be fine!”

  “Pidge, no wait!”

  His pleas were unheard as Pidge hung up, and he stared crestfallen it his screen. Okay, okay. So not only was he totally out of place here, but he was here alone, except for some kid named Hunk? 

  “Hey, Lance!” 

  Lance whipped around. His eyes scanning the crowd for the voice that had called him. He didn’t realize there'd be anyone else he knew here. He didn’t see anyone familiar, and was about to give up when it came again.

  “Lance, over here!” 

  Finally, Lance spotted the culprit. No wonder he hadn’t noticed him the first time- he’d never seen him before. The teen in question was wearing a yellow tee and an orange band wrapped around his forehead, waving frantically. Hesitantly, Lance weaved his way through the crowd until he reached him.

  “Hey, I’m Hunk,” he said. Oh, so this was partner-in-crime-to-be. He didn’t look like the breaking into offices and pulling pranks type, but who was he to judge on looks?

  “Um, hi?” 

  Hunk smiled brightly at him, Lance's heart did a weird thing. “How did you, uh…” Lance cleared his throat, willing his cheeks to stop flushing. “How did you know it was me?”

  “Pidge described you. Speaking of which, have you seen her?” 

  “Oh, she just told me she wouldn’t be able to make it this year.”

  “Oh.” Hunk looked crestfallen, and Lance felt an inexplicable urge to cheer him up somehow as his phone chirped. Hunk looked curiously at him while he read the message.

 “Speak of the devil,” Lance muttered. “Pidge just sent me all the details for the prank. Says… Iverson comes at exhibition one?”

  Hunk’s eyes widened. “That’s twenty minutes from now!”

  Thrill surged through Lance.  _ This _ was what he’d come for. “Okay, where is the exhibition?”

  “C Hall?”

  Without hesitation, Lance grabbed Hunk’s wrist and dragged him away with a grin.

 

* * *

 

  15 minutes later, Hunk and Lance sat pressed against a kitchen wall. Just around the corner, a trio of teachers were walking down the hall. With what they knew, within the next few minutes Iverson would come down the hall. The prank was simple; without Pidge they hadn’t been able to get into all the details of the plan, but they were still able to get the bare minimum. 

  “Timer set?”

  “Check.”

  “Supplies in place?”

  “Check.”

  “Then we are set to go.”

  “Just a few minutes of downtime, I guess.” Lance leaned his head back against the wall and looked over at Hunk. The teen (Samoan, he’d learned) was fidgeting with the timer. “Hey, after this, do you wanna…” Lance trailed off, his cheeks heating up.

  Hunk glanced over at him. “Wanna what?”

  “...hang out, or something?”  _ Not _ what Lance was gonna ask, but he was a chicken.

  Nonetheless, Hunk grinned. “Of course!”  

  “Great.” Lance let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “So, maybe-”

   “Wait, listen!” 

  Lance strained to hear what Hunk was talking about. After a second of silence, he heard it- authoritative footsteps down the hall, the kind that warned you of a teacher's presence before they got to you. Only one teacher hadn't arrived yet. 

  “Iverson,” Lance whispered. 

  “He's a minute early!” said Hunk. “The timer won't go off yet.”

  “I got this,” Lance said. He ignored Hunk's protests as he dove out of the kitchen, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and whistled a jaunty tune. He tried to look as nonchalant as possible while Iverson turned the corner.

  “McClain!” 

   Perfect. Lance cut off the whistle song and faced Iverson. “Yes sir?”

   “What are you doing here?” 

  “Science Camp?”

   Iverson studied him dubiously. “You?”

   “Me.” Lance nodded solemnly. 

   Iverson harrumphed haughtily. “Well, this area is restricted to students.”

   “Are you sure, sir?” Lance asked innocently. “I'm pretty sure it isn't.”

  “Don't talk back to me, Lance. I can still get you kicked out. Now get out of here.”

   Lance glanced around nervously. The timer still hadn't gone off, and if he left now Iverson wouldn't be in the right spot. 

   “Okay, but, I have one question.”

   Iverson glared at him. “What?”

  “Why is it that- what I mean to say is, how is it that-”

  Click. Lance grinned, treasuring the look of confusion on Iverson’s face as he glanced up. His expression morphed into surprise. Then- boom, his face was covered in wet flour. Iverson spluttered as Lance burst out laughing. 

  “ _ McClain! _ ” 

  Iverson wiped the flour off his eyes and glowered at him, seething. Shoot, Lance hadn't thought this far. Iverson stepped forward and Lance stepped back, nervously. He took a few hasty steps backwards until his back hit a wall. Right, this was the dead end branch that led to the kitchen. Okay, okay, so that was bad. Iverson grabbed the front of his shirt. 

   “Listen McClain, if you  _ ever _ -”

_ SMASH! _

  Iverson’s grip on his shirt loosened in bewilderment as he processed the cake on his face. Lance slipped to the ground, just as confused as Iverson until he saw Hunk behind him. Before he could say anything, Hunk had grabbed his wrist and was leading him down halls. Lance didn't know if Hunk had any idea where he was going, but he wasn't inclined to stop him as they sprinted down the twisted halls. 

  Intentional or not, moments later they burst out of a set of doors. Both he and Hunk were gasping for breath, before Lance collapsed on the ground in a fit of laughter. Hunk stared at him. 

  “Dude,  _ cake _ ? Where did you even find that?”

  Hunk smiled sheepishly. “It was in the kitchen.”

  “Nice save, man. Nice save.” He held his hand up for a high five, and Hunk obliged as he slid down next to Lance. 

  “I'm never gonna be able to show my face again, though.” 

  “Don't worry, man.” Hunk draped an arm around Lance. “I got you.”

  Lance felt his cheeks heating up again as he stared and the arm over his shoulders. If Hunk noticed, he didn't say anything. Lance sighed. Maybe this week wouldn't be too bad after all.

 

* * *

 

  A week later, Lance was back in the comfort of his room, once again on the phone with Pidge. 

  “I can't believe Hunk saved you with  _ cake _ ,” Pidge laughed. “I can't believe you guys are best friends now, either.”

  “Pidge, relax. There's no third wheeling in friendships.”

  “Yeah, but you guys are boyfriends.”

  Lance spluttered and coughed. “Pidge,” he wheezed. “We are  _ not _ boyfriends.” 

  Silence. “Uh huh. You’re totally in love with him.” Pidge teased. Lance didn't respond as he felt the phone buzz again. A text from Hunk that definitely did  _ not _ make his heart flutter. 

  “Oh my god, you're totally in love with him.” 

  “Pidge, I'm not in love.”

  He felt a grin spreading across his face as he read the text. Hunk was in town this weekend, and he wanted to hang out. 

  “Are your sure about that Lance?”

  Lance sighed. “Okay, maybe a little.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr at made-of-constellations.


End file.
